No Hero's Were Harmed In the Creation of This Story
by Charles Lee Ray
Summary: A slight AU where one geeky superhero has a run in with a mafia boss' son while on a seemingly uneventful trip to the comic book store. The two boys start out as enemies, but it isn't long before that they become friends. However, Chris still has some trust issues, and he's dealing with abuse at home. Dave wants to help, but he only ends up making everything a thousand times worse.
1. Chapter 1

Dave re-adjusted his glasses. He wondered why he even wore them anymore; he had contacts, and it wasn't as if he attracted any ladies when he wore them, they actually seemed to repel chicks more than he actually did. Still, he wore the dumb things, it was sort of like an extension to keeping his identity as a superhero a secret. Or not really if you thought about it. Dave shook his head, dismissing the dumb thoughts filtering around in his mind. He had work to do, more specifically, comics to read.

He eventually made it to his destination, Atomic Comics. He would have got there earlier if his bike hadn't been jacked the night before. Dave was still pretty pissed about it, but he didn't let it dampen his mood. He pushed the door open to the shop and immediately surfed through the many assortments of comics lining the store, stopping only when he came to his favorite genre; crime fighting super hero's.

Chris D'Amico took another long drag of the weed as he sped down the streets of Staten Island towards his favourite place in the world: Atomic Comics. Not exactly your stereotypical bottle-cap glasses wearing, skinny, socially awkward, virgin-type comic book nerd (well maybe except for one of those things, which he would never admit to of course), but there was truly no other place in the world he'd rather be. Comic books and his drugs were really the only things in life he actually found comfort in. And only a small percentage of the things that dear old dad didn't approve of. Not that he really approved of the kid in the first place. A lot seemed to change after his mother took off. But not shit that he wanted to think of right now as he pulled into a free parking spot along the street; a hint of a smile crossing his face as he glanced up at the sign of the storefront. This was more of a home to him than anywhere else.

Most of his days were spent at the comic book store. He could be himself here; getting lost in his favourite superhero stories. No worries, no bullshit, just - fuck. His smile quickly faded; instead replaced by his usual smug smirk as he spotted his highschool rival through the large glass door. It had been, what, four, maybe five years since he had seen the guy, but the hatred for him certainly remained. Well this was his fuckin' territory.

"Lizewski." He nodded to the older boy as he headed for - god damnit! - the same section Dave was in: super heroes.

Dave's hand stopped short, letting the comic he was lifting up slip back into the rack. Dave knew that voice. "Chris?" The name left his lips before he even lifted his head to check and see who it was. But he had been correct. And now the shorter boy was making his way towards him. "What are you doing here?" He asked stupidly in his surprise, forgetting momentarily that Chris was just as much of a comic-fanatic as him, possibly even more so. "I mean hey, I haven't seen you in a while." Dave said not unkindly. Four or so years passed already and he didn't even think to consider it an option that Chris would still be mad with him. It had been a long time after all, no one holds grudges that long right?

Chris' eyes widened; like himself, Dave had certainly changed over the years…a lot. Not that it mattered. He was still the pathetic attractive loser that he had always - wait, attractive? Chris shook his head of this confusing or, more so, fucked up thought and approached his sworn enemy.

He never actually had a reason for hating the guy. I mean, he barely knew him really. Only meeting him for the first time in the eleventh grade when his parents finally allowed him to go to a real school instead of continuing to home school him. There was just something about Dave fucking Lizewski that made his blood boil…

"The fuck it look like I'm doing here?" responding only with his usual tone as he not-so-accidentally shoved by his peer. "Playing fucking chess, obviously." Dumbass.

The growing smile on Dave's face fell as Chris spoke. He swayed at the boys rather forceful nudge, quickly retaining his balance before he moved over to give Chris the space he obviously wanted. "You haven't changed much." Dave commented. "I was just trying to make conversation..." He said in a much quieter voice.

Dave picked up the comic he had dropped and re-examined it. It was interesting looking, the characters displayed on the cover looked bad-ass and from what he could tell, it seemed to have a pretty amazing plot as well. He tucked the comic under his arm and made the short trip to the booth beside the window where he regularly sat. Usually Marty and Todd would hang out with him, but the guys were slowly drifting apart and seeing each other less and less.

Reaching for a Batman comic Chris casually flipped through the pages while smirking. "Changed a lot more than you think, asshole," glancing up from his comic, "can see you're still a loser though." Normally Dave had his little buddies following him around everywhere he went. Looks like they finally realized it as well.

Dave ignored the other boy's snide remark easily. Those long years he spent in high school had made him nearly impervious to petty insults. And then there was the fact that this was Chris, and he always saw him assort of a kid, despite them being around the same age. Except now he couldn't really look at him that way because he had facial hair, and it made him look more... well, less like a child. But even though he matured aesthetically, Dave couldn't tell the difference between the Chris he knew in high school, to the man that he was now.

Chris glanced back to his comic and suddenly realizing he didn't even like Batman, he dropped the book back in with the other comics and searched through for something a little more his style; something where the villain always wins. Yeah, right. Not exactly easy to find. But his mind was somewhere else at the moment anyways.

It frustrated him to no end that Dave could get to him like this. The way he walked, talked, that ridiculous lopsided smile he constantly wore, the way his unkempt mess of hair would fall over those deep blue eyes hidden beneath those dorky glasses. _'Would look so much better with contacts…' _Whoa. Yeah, he hated him alright.

"You're distracting me. Fuck off." Chris said as he stormed over to Dave's booth and slid in across from him.

"What's your problem? I'm just sitting here."

"Dude, just you being here is fuckin' annoying me." Giving probably the most immature response possible as he glared bitterly across the table; his voice rising. "There are tons of comic book stores in this city. Can't you go somewhere else?" Before Dave could reply, Chris leaned over the table and quickly snatched the others' comic book from him. "What's this crap you're reading anyways?" quickly glancing through the pages, before carelessly tossing the book back across the table.

Dave offered the boy a rather annoyed look of his own as he caught the book as it was flung in his direction.

"What the hell's goin' on over here?" Apparently the owner had been watching the two the whole time, worried a fight might just break lose in his store. And tossing precious, rare comic books around was definitely grounds for removal. Not that it wasn't obvious to everyone around them; you could practically feel the hatred radiating off of the two boys. "You two take it outside." The owner hurried over to the booth to retrieve the comic book before more damage could be done to it as he shooed the boys away. "Go on!"

Dave gave the owner an apologetic glance as he was forced to intervene. He didn't protest as the owner grabbed the comic book from his own hand, nor did he argue as he was told to leave. Dave stood up, preparing to go, but it seemed Chris had other ideas. The superhero in him couldn't just leave the poor owner who looked a little frightened of Chris's advance.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Do you even know who I am?" Chris jumped from his seat as he got in the owners' face. With a crime lord for a father it was all too easy for Chris to get away with whatever he wanted and he constantly took advantage of that fact.

"Chris, come on. Let's just go."

The comic store owner did his best to hold back a hint of fear as Chris barked at him. He knew exactly who the kid was and the power that his father held, but there was no way that he was going allow this punk to disrespect him in his own store. "I don't give a shit who you are, boy. I'm sure your father wouldn't be too pleased to hear about the way you're acting right now." This wasn't the first time Chris had caused trouble in his shop, but it will be the last.

The last thing Chris needed was his dad hearing about this. "Well, fine. Fuck you. See how well your business does when my father hears about the way you're treating me." He knew his father would be more angry with him then the owner, but the threat of it never failed.

Storming past Dave, he flung open the door to the shop and headed for his car.

"What the hell, man? You got me kicked out."

Frantically searching his pockets for his car keys, Chris barely noticed that Dave had followed him out the door, clearly looking to fight, or so he thought.

"Oh, _I_ got us kicked out?" balling his hands into fists and turning from his car to face his accuser. "_You_ just fucking got us kicked out! I go there all the damn time and have never had a problem till you decided to show up." He knew it was all his fault. He knew it, though he'd never admit to it. "And by the way, I was handling it perfectly fine till you fuckin' stepped in." In fact, he was rather thankful for Dave's interruption. Intimidation _usually_ worked for him, but this guy didn't seem to be falling for it. Taking Dave's advice and leaving was probably for the better.

Dave rolled his eye's as Chris managed to turn the whole thing around and make it his fault. He sighed, getting tired pretty quickly over Chris's theatrics. "If I knew you were going to act like this I wouldn't have tried to talk to you in the first place."

The guy obviously didn't like him, for whatever reason. But Dave had a feeling that he just treated everybody like that. Having nothing else to go on, he decided Chris was a bit of an asshole. "Why don't you like me anyway? I don't remember doing anything to you."

Chris knew he was being completely ridiculous over this. They were no longer in highschool. Their childish bickering needed to stop. And Dave did make a good point: what _did _he ever do to him? Confusion set in as he tried to figure this out. He was always an asshole to everyone, but it never crossed his mind to ask himself why.

Why _didn't _he like him? Why didn't he like _anybody_? It was impossible to get close to him and only now was he beginning to realize this. He had no friends, at least not true friends anyways. The few that that he did have were either rich, stuck-up, spoiled little brats who he could not stand (much like himself), or they were so afraid of him that they figured they'd be much better off to just stay on his good side. But to have somebody actually _want _to talk to him just because; that was rare.

"I…I don't know…" he quickly responded before turning away; nervously fidgeting with his car keys.

But he did know. He was flat-out terrified of another person getting close to him; possibly wanting to be his friend. It practically had been beaten into him not to associate with those of, well, lesser worth and by his fathers' standards that meant basically everyone.

Dave studied the others face as he spoke. The guy seemed to have calmed down considerably since they had been told to leave the shop. That was a good thing. He preferred him like this. Still, it didn't make him look anymore approachable. The man just appeared more reserved than before.

Dave couldn't help but feel the conversation was a lost cause, Chris looked like he didn't want to talk to him anymore, and he didn't even seem to know why he hated him. What kind of person hates someone else without knowing the reason why? What was his problem? Dave just didn't understand this guy.

"I thought that maybe we could be friends for once. You know, it's what _normal _people do." He said truthfully, with emphasis on the normal as a small jab back at the boy for getting him kicked out.

Chris shoved his hands in the pockets of his designer jeans and stared hard at the ground; he was still very much on edge over the quarrel in the comic book shop and angry at Dave for, again, who knows why. This guy just wanted to be his friend. And not out of fear or to use him for his money or anything else like that, but by _choice_. Dave was a decent person, anyone could see that, but trusting another person was not something he was used to. He wasn't about to let his guard down.

"Friends? With _you_?" Chris scoffed at this, attempting to keep up his tough-guy façade. Sure, he'd love nothing more than to be able to just hang out with this guy; from what he could tell, they had a lot in common, more so than his snobby, rich 'friends' that were chosen for him.

Dave stared at the others turned back. He thought the guy didn't want to hear about what he had to say, but Chris hadn't leapt into his car and sped away just yet; that had to account for something. If there was even a remote chance he was interested in being friends, Dave wanted to take advantage of that. He no ulterior motives, all he wanted was to be able to be on friendly terms with the other. Ever since he had first met him in highschool he noticed how the boys father had never really attended any of the school functions, and how Chris was escorted around by his chauffeur, but never seen with his parents. Dave thought living like that must be pretty lonely, and he felt bad for him.

"Yeah, would that be so terrible?" Dave said.

For someone to insist this much even after the way Chris had just treated him amounted to something. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to just give this guy a chance. He considered the idea as he leaned against the driver's side door of his old, beat-up, barely-drivable black Mercedes; the last thing his mother had given him for his sixteenth birthday before she took off with the butler and, even after five years now, Chris just couldn't bear to get rid of it.

"I don't know. I mean, no. No, it wouldn't be terrible. Whatever you want." Chris brushed the other's question off; he didn't quite know how to reply to this considering most people went out of their way just to avoid him.

"Look, man, I really should get going. I'm in enough shit as it is just being out here without security…" He rolled his eyes at the statement as he pressed the unlock button on his key fob. He could barely go anywhere without an escort and on the occasional days when he was able to sneak out by himself (such as today) he made it worth it. But it was getting late and no doubt it's been noticed that he wasn't home. In fact, he was quite surprised his father's goons weren't waiting for him outside the comic book store already.

A hopeful smiled crossed his features. _'Well... it's progress?'_ Dave thought as he heard the other speak. "Ok. See you around." He stuffed his hands into his hoodie pockets and checked out the others 'sweet ride', except that it wasn't so sweet as it was trashy looking. Wasn't Chris rich? Then why didn't he have a fancy, flashy one to show off in? That sort of thing sounded more his style. Still, It was more than Dave had, who didn't even have a bike to his name anymore.

Chris studied Dave's reaction as he eyed his Mercedes. It was the same as everyone else's: questioning why he wasn't sporting the latest model as opposed to this junky piece of crap.

"My mom gave it to me for my sixteenth birthday and I just haven't replaced it yet," he shrugged. That was really all anyone needed to know.

Dave gawked at Chris as he seemed to read his mind, answering his question without him even asking. Unsure of how to reply, he instead opted for letting the other know he was serious about wanting to get to know him.

"Hey, I work at that big theater nearby, just so you know. Maybe we could talk sometime."

"Yeah, maybe I'll stop by. Been meaning to see the newest Avengers movie anyways," Chris couldn't help but grin back when he saw Dave smiling at him. He ran his fingers through his hair (an unconscious action of his when he was nervous) as he realized he was staring a little longer than he planned before quickly looking away.

"I've seen that one, it's really good." Dave commented.

"Are you, uh, workin' soon? Like, tonight?" Chris asked though more to the ground rather than directly at Dave.

"Yeah, actually. I sometimes hang out in the comic store before work. It's like my routine."

"I could, ya know, give you a lift before I head home," slightly baffled by this sudden confidence, "come on, man." Chris smiled, hopping into his car and motioning towards the passenger's side. He was in trouble anyways; it wasn't going to make much of a difference how late he came home now.

"Really? That'd be awesome." The lanky man smiled brightly as he strode around the front of the parked park. He pulled open the passengers door, and dropped into the seat, closing the door behind him. "Thanks."

* * *

**A.N. - If anyone would like to beta for this story please don't hesitate to contact me! I've been searching for a beta for over a month to no avail.**

**This is a roleplay between me and Jayden Blake. I play as Dave and Mindy. My amazingly talented partner acts as Chris, Frank, and Damon. Once again I'd like to point out that this is a slight AU. That means most of the events that occurred in both Kick-Ass 1 and 2 don't pertain to this plot. And be sure not to make any assumptions about the characters, and their back stories. In this fic, Chris doesn't know Dave is actually Kick Ass and the boys are 21.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Kick-Ass nor do I make a profit from any of my stories.**

**Also, reviews are greatly appreciated! It would be nice to know there are people actually reading this fic. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

It hadn't been that long since they were pretty much at each other's throats and now…

'_I'm offering him a ride?'_

He wasn't given much time to change his mind even if he wanted to as Dave was already seated in the passenger's seat practically grinning from ear to ear.

"Sure. No problem. And I don't wanna hear any spoilers about the movie," the younger replied, starting up the car and pulling the shift gear into reverse, "you gotta stop at home and grab a uniform or anything?" he asked, keeping his foot on the brake pedal as he awaited Dave's response.

"Nope. I'm already wearing it." Dave pulled down the zipper on his jacket to reveal a little of the dark blue polo shirt and name tag underneath, before yanking the pull back up, a dorky smile playing on his face.

Chris felt his heart race ever so slightly. "Uh, alright. Yeah." He was stumbling over almost every word which was very unlike him and seemed to be gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than usual as they sped down the streets towards the theater.

He could barely keep his eyes on the road, continuously glancing over at the rather attractive older boy beside him. He never recalled Dave Lizewski being this good-looking. Come to think of it, he never recalled any guy being good-looking. _'Oh my god, what the fuck is wrong with me?'_ silently berating himself, _'just haven't seen him in a while, that's all. We've both changed. No big deal.' _He tried to convince himself, but failing miserably in the process.

They were mostly silent during the drive to Dave's work; it seemed neither one knew what to really say to the other. It wasn't entirely uncomfortable though, in fact Chris rather enjoyed the company.

He pulled around back to the theater parking lot and placed the car in park, tapping his fingers anxiously on the wheel as he thought of something to say. "So uh, we're here," he spoke up, offering a foolish grin. _'Well duh, idiot.'_

_'I probably look like a moron.' _Dave mentally noted that he was smiling too much. He wanted to say more to the boy, but he was at a loss for words.

'_God, he looks so good when he smiles...'_ Chris caught the other beaming just as much as himself. Again with the uncomfortable silence as Chris wished he could think of something, anything, to say before Dave left.

"Wait!" he called, as he reached for Dave's wrist to stop him from climbing out of the car, "Umm, how bout I give you my number and you can call me when you wanna hang out." Chris tore a section from a scrap piece of paper lying around and grabbed a pen from the cup holder to write his name and number down for Dave; his hands shaking in the process as he handed it to his new friend.

Chris watched as Dave entered the building before taking off for his home as quick as he could.

- o - o - o -

The next few monotonous hours were spent sitting around inside of a booth, exchanging movie tickets for cash. It was all so incredibly dull, that Dave found himself wondering about his new friend, and if he had a job. _'Probably not.' _He thought. It was common knowledge that the D'amico's were loaded, and it made little sense for Chris to have a job with all that money at his disposal._ 'Anybody that rich would probably be working some high profile job, and getting paid $100 bucks an hour.'_

When his shift was over, Dave shrugged his hoodie on, eager to escape his tiny, compact prison. However, before he could reach the exit to the building, the girl working the booth next to his, Jessica, who had about as much personality as a pile of bricks (but made up for it with her hotness), approached him. Dave didn't get too excited though. He'd been in similar situations such as this, where women would approach him, ask him if he was gay and if he wanted to be their gay best friend. As it turned out, Jessica wasn't any different.

She had gushed to him how cute he and his 'boyfriend' looked and he could barely get a word in edgewise, much less correct her error with her incessant chit-chat. "You should go for guys with better cars though." She advised. "I have this friend, George, and he drives a Porsche, and he's really into tall guys like you-"

"For the last time I'm not gay." His outburst had a desirable effect and Jessica's mouth fell shut quickly as a betrayed look crossed her features. _'I never said I was gay. Why the shit is she giving me that look? Is that fucking rumor still going around?' _He thought as he walked past her.

The walk home was as uneventful as the time he spent working. He was sure to stay alert, just in case the thief who stole his only form of transportation decided to go peddling around his area, he would be ready.

Dave climbed the doorsteps to his house, and let himself in. He was greeted by his exhausted looking dad. Sometimes he felt like he took his father for granted, he knew how hard the guy worked to earn funding for his college. That was the reason he put his superhero business on the back burner and concentrated more on his studying, and work.

Dave and his father spent a few minutes talking about the usual sort of stuff, how work was going, and if he was doing good in school. The conversation ended with his dad being too tired to continue speaking, and excusing himself to his bedroom. Dave bounded up the steps for his own room, removing his jacket as he went and draping it over the banister. Next he took of his glasses, folding them as he set them down on his nightstand. The lanky man then began peeling off the rest of his clothing, letting them pool at his feet. He paused in his movements, to reach in his pocket to retrieve the folded piece of paper. He picked up his nearby cellphone, and entered in the number, adding the boy as a new contact.

Now that he had Chris's number stored on his phone, he didn't really need to keep the paper anymore. Still, he felt like it held some sort of significance and he couldn't bring himself to throw it away. Dave smiled to himself as he smoothed the paper out, and set it beside his glasses. It was the last thing he did before switching off his lamp and falling asleep.

- o - o - o -

Pulling into his reserved spot in the underground parking lot to the condominium Chris frantically racked his brain for an acceptable excuse, but knowing all too well what was in store for him. Fuck it; it was completely worth it. He couldn't help but smile at that thought as he pressed the top floor button on the elevator.

"Christopher!" flinching at the bellowing call of his name coming from his father's office_, 'Shit.' _He had tried his best to sort of sneak in and make it to his bedroom before his father noticed.

"Get in here, boy."

Chris shakily turned the doorknob to the office and tried to compose himself as best he could before entering, however barely making it a few steps into the room before his father's much larger frame was looming over him. He wasn't given a chance for an explanation before he was backhanded hard across the face and hitting his head on the wall directly behind him; wiping the right side of his lip with the back of his hand as the taste of blood appeared in his mouth.

It hurt, but it certainly didn't come as a surprise. Frank D'Amico never approved of his son; Chris had never been good enough in his eyes. His mother was smart to leave when she did.

He felt a hand grip tightly in his hair as he was forced to look up at his father who began his usual furious screams of accusations and insults which Chris had learned to tune out early on whilst pretending to listen to every word.

Feeling he damn well had gotten his point across to the boy, Frank roughly shoved his son out of the room without another word and slammed the door.

'Well that wasn't so bad.' Chris thought as he staggered down the hall to his bedroom, dizzy from where he hit his head and grimacing at the copper taste in his mouth. And still, he did not regret one moment of it.

- o - o - o -

The next morning Chris awoke early as he normally did to finish up an assignment for the business program that he was taking in college. It wasn't due until the following Wednesday, but his father demanded the weekend be used for schoolwork. Whereas most people his age would be out having fun, Chris could be found stuck at home seated at his computer until his work was complete and to Frank's standards.

He didn't bother showering, only threw on a pair of jeans and went straight for his computer to get as much done as possible so he wasn't stuck here all day. Not that it mattered as he was probably grounded for the weekend anyways. _'Who grounds their twenty-one year old? Fuck.'_

He always thought on just getting his own place, but that would mean he would need money, which as it may come to a surprise to most, Chris didn't have. He was kept on a very small allowance and besides, not having worked a day in his life, he couldn't see any place hiring him with his lack of experience.

Starting up his computer, Chris rested his face into his hand as he waited for the device to boot up. He winced at the contact and quickly brought his head back up; figuring he probably had a decent sized bruise from when his father hit him the night before. _'Great.'_

He was running out of excuses when others questioned him as to what happened and using the 'I got in a fight' excuse was getting old fast.

By habit, Chris logged into his social media account first before starting any work; a useless move as he barely had anyone on his friend's list. He scrolled through the list of name's that were online as a sudden thought popped into his head. Clicking the search bar he typed in Dave's full name and easily found his profile before scanning through the man's pictures.

'_Heh. Dork.' _Chris smiled widely as he came across old highschool pics of his new friend.

'_It wouldn't be totally creepy to add him, right? I mean, we're friends now..'_ Chris hovered the mouse over the Add Friend button and instead figured he'd messaged him first.

'_Don't sound weird. Just a simple hello.'_ He was making far too big a deal out of this than he should.

'hey! its chris :-).' He typed before hitting the Send button and leaning back in his chair with a sigh of relief. Probably could have done without the smiley icon though.

'_There. How hard was that?'_

Apparently pretty difficult as he realized he had just wasted over an hour scrolling through Dave's entire profile and driving himself nuts as to what to say to the guy. He was never the type that was ever at a loss for words, but when it came to Dave, Chris could hardly manage a basic 'hello'. And trying to comprehend why wasn't something he had time for at the moment.

'_Damnit. Gotta finish this essay.' _He tried to keep his mind busy with the incredibly boring paper on Entrepreneurship (crap he already knew a lot about anyways with his family having a business of their own), but couldn't help tabbing over to his social media account every so often, more like every thirty seconds, to check his messages.

'_Why hasn't he replied yet? Maybe I shouldn't have messaged him. Maybe…maybe he's just not online right now. Did I piss him off somehow?'_

He passed off his anxiousness as just excitement of having a new friend that he could actually talk about comic books and video games with, be himself around rather than having to keep up that intimidating, corrupt D'amico image that everyone feared.

- o - o - o -

Dave would have given anything to get out of work early. The theater was buzzing with people, like it normally did on weekends. The lines of people forming in front of Jessica's and his booths were starting to become impatient the longer they waited to be serviced. One particular man went off on him about how slow he was, and told him in an angry voice that a machine could replace him at his job, before he snatched his tickets and walked deeper into the theater. Dave worked as quickly and efficiently as he could to meet his customers demands, and when the flow of people started to ebb away, he felt thankful that he could finally have a little peace.

If Dave was claustrophobic, this wouldn't be his ideal job (not that it was already, he hated it in fact). The box he had to remain inside was extremely stuffy, and small. He silently made a vow to himself they he never get a job again where he was forced to stay inside a cube for six hours. The experience was not unlike being trapped inside a cage.

Dave pulled out his phone from his pocket and began fiddling around with it. He knew that if his manager caught him, he'd be in for another lecture (the guy didn't like him for some reason), but he almost wanted that to happen just so he would have an excuse to quit. But there weren't any available job spots in his area, he'd been looking, and until one opened up, Dave was stuck with his incredibly lame career of ticket selling.

He checked for any missed messages or texts, but there was none. Dave sighed to himself. He should really try to socialize more, his friends barely contacted him anymore and he found himself deleting more and more of the numbers in his phone. He guessed that was the price he payed for trying to be responsible, and working and studying instead of partying around like everyone else. _'I haven't checked my facebook in a while, I wounder if I got any messages on there...'_

Dave logged into his account and was promptly directed to home, where in the corner of the page flashed red, signaling that someone indeed was trying to contact him. He smiled to himself as he recognised the sender, and began typing his own message as a reply. 'hey, what's up?' He hit enter, and the message sent. He hoped the other boy was still online, his reply was a little late.

Focusing on work deemed nearly impossible; Chris was far too distracted with Facebook, impatiently awaiting a reply from someone who, only a day ago, he had loathed more than anything. His heart jumped at the alert of a new message and his pulse quickened when he saw who it was from. It was highly unlikely that essay will be finished now.

'homework -_-. u?' he responded with eagerness.

Dave spared a quick glance around himself, checking to see if anyone was looking, before he typed his own reply and hit send. 'Work. It's boring here.'

'_That was quick' _Chris thought to himself with a grin as he immediately replied back.

'i would luv to work there! u guys prolly get discounts on all the movies and see all the new ones before anyone else gets to.'

He was secretly jealous of Dave's life; sure, they weren't as well-off like Chris' family was, but to just live a normal life was something he always dreamed of.

'It does have some benefits, I'll admit.' Dave wrote back_. 'There are a lot of things that suck about it too, like the douchebag manager, and these stupid booths.'_ He thought.

'i'd come visit u on ur break or somethin but i'm kinda grounded.'

'That sucks, man. When you're done being grounded, hit me up, and we could meet somewhere.'

Chris smirked as he read the last part of Dave's message; apparently he wasn't that familiar with Frank D'amico. 'when i'm done being grounded. lol . that's a good one man. prolly gonna have to just sneak out again.' Chris very much considered this idea. It was time he started making his own decisions as to who he hung out with and when he chose to come home; he wasn't a damn teenager anymore.

'It's kinda weird that you aren't allowed to go anywhere. My dad lost the ability to ground me when I was 18. We're like, legally adults now.'

'his house, his rules,' was all he could come back with. Chris had never known any differently, but that never stopped him from doing what he wanted from time to time. Writing up another message, he hit send. 'what time u finish work at? maybe we could grab a drink or somethin to eat or whatever.' '_What the fuck am I doing!?'_ It was like, his fingers just kept typing while his brain was screaming at him to stop.

'A drink sounds good right about now. ;) my shift is over in another hour.' Was he really going to meet up with Chris again? It was almost like he landed himself in a parallel universe where they didn't hate each other.

'_Did he just send me the wink icon? That's…kinda gay, but whatever.' _Chris chuckled at this whilst viewing the rest of the message. He took a glance at his Rolex; alright, still had lots of time if Dave finished work in an hour.

'we can just drink here if u want. my dads working super late tonight so I got the place to myself. totally got the new call of duty if ur interested. :D'

'_Did I seriously just invite this guy to my house? Dave fuckin Lizewski?' _Yep.

There was a clicking sound of the door opening, and Dave swiveled in his chair to face the wall as he stuffed his phone inside his pants. When he his cell wall hidden from sight, Dave turned back around to see who was imposing on his space. It was the manager, old man Gary, and he stood there with an accusing glare. "No slacking. We don't pay you kids to play with your little gadgets." And then he closed the door again and was out of sight.

Dave sighed, and picked up his phone again to send one last text. 'Manager just stormed in and caught me texting you. igtg. And all of that sounds good.'

Not wanting Dave to get into any more trouble than he was already in with his boss, Chris didn't reply and instead closed his computer down and headed straight for his en-suite bathroom to get ready.


	3. Chapter 3

After one of the quickest showers he had ever taken, Chris threw on the pair of dark grey boxer shorts he had brought with him to the bathroom and stepped in front of the mirror, wiping the condensation from it with his hand before reaching for the toothbrush and toothpaste.

Grabbing the small bottle of hair-gel beside him, he ran the liquid through his short black locks, spiking it up in his usual style with his fingers.

A few more quick glances to make sure every strand was in place; Chris rushed back to his bedroom to continue getting ready as he stepped into the massive walk-in closet to choose an outfit. He opted for a more casual-styled, light-blue, button down dress shirt and a pair of his favorite loose-fitting black jeans.

His heart was racing and he was sweating so much he thought he'd likely have to change his shirt before he met with Dave. He had never been so nervous in his entire life and he couldn't figure out why.

It hadn't even occurred to Chris just how much time had passed until he fixed his watch back into place on his wrist and noticed the time. He had about five minutes before Dave's shift ended and figured it'd be alright to message him now.

Chris reached for his cell phone on his nightstand and logged onto his Facebook account.

'u want me to pick u up? need to go home first or anything?' he sent, as he plopped down on his bed and waited for a response.

Dave replied to the others text a minute later, having just exited his suffocating booth. 'Yeah. to both questions. need to change out of these work clothes.' He felt strangely giddy that the guy was even giving him his time of day.

'alright. leavin now. b there soon.'

Chris grabbed his jacket from the hall closet and headed for the elevator and out to his car.

The ten minute drive to the theater gave Chris a chance to think.

One minute they were enemies (or at least they were in his eyes) and now he's got the guy coming over to his condo.

Did he ever really hate the guy in the first place? Or was it something different? The thought that Dave would never even speak to a guy like him much less want to be his friend; Chris had been completely wrong about that. He was always so quick to judge; a flaw in himself that he was well aware of, but couldn't control.

He parked his car out front of the large theater and left it running as he waited for Dave, taking one more quick check of himself in his rear view mirror and catching site of the large bruise on the right side of his face. _'God damnit.'_

Dave sat down on the benches beside the entrance to the theater. He spent the next few minutes mulling over the fact that he was going to hang out with Chris. There was also that worry in the back of his mind that the maybe the boy wouldn't show, but the foolish thought was cast aside as he recognized the black car that pulled up. Dave grinned, and stood up, striding over to the passengers side of the vehicle. He sat down inside, glancing over to his friend.

"Hey, man. How's it go-" Chris was immediately cut off when Dave entered the vehicle and straightaway questioned his wound. In his haste this morning to get ready, Chris hadn't even noticed it until now.

"What happened?" Dave asked upon inspection of the painful looking bruised flesh on the side of the mans face.

"Oh uh, this," pointing at the mark on his face, "ya know sometimes when you wake up in the morning and you've got a mark on your body that you cannot for the life of you remember how you got it? Well, when you're as clumsy as I am, it happens a lot." He tried to laugh it off, hoping that Dave would buy it, but by the looks of it Dave obviously wasn't falling for his story.

The spectacled man watched as the boy explained himself, rather unconvincingly I might add. He didn't buy the others excuse for two reasons. One being , Chris was acting all weird about it, and two, things like_ that_ don't just happen in your sleep. The boys flimsy laugh only added to his suspicion that he wasn't telling the truth. _'Maybe he got into a fight and lost and he's just too embarrassed' _The guy sure knew how to run his mouth, it probably gets him into trouble all the time. Dave had just seen an example of that yesterday at the comic store. That idea did seem plausible, however, the guy looked more on edge and fidgety than embarrassed.

Chris fidgeted with the zipper of his jacket and contemplated on just telling him the truth. It probably wasn't much of a secret to anyone, including Dave, that Frank D'amico wasn't exactly father of the year. The D'amico family was known for their brutal, merciless, completely overbearing nature; it would be a shock if the man had the ability to show kindness to _anyone_.

"Or umm…" he started slowly, looking away from Dave as he spoke "or my dad may just be a total fuckin prick. But it's okay. I'm used to it. No big deal." He shrugged it off, not really wanting to discuss it further and instead asked quickly, "so, which way to your place?"

Dave didn't say anything as he regarded the other, who seemed pretty insistent on looking anywhere but at him. His eye's widened at what the boy was implying. Was he telling the truth? The guy looked pretty serious. _'His dad hits him?' _It came as a surprise for Dave, who had never been hit in his life by his own father. But now that he thought about it, the idea wasn't so far fetched.

Dave was saddened by this revelation. _'He's used to it? Just how long has his dad been hitting him?' _He wanted to ask Chris these questions. But the guy looked like he didn't want to say anything else about the subject, and Dave didn't want to be kicked out for pressing him to talk when he didn't want to.

He absentmindedly delivered the directions to his house as the Chris asked for them. His eye's stared hard at the window as he thought about how much worse Chris had it than he originally thought.

Chris kept his eyes to the floor of his car as he explained what really happened to him, not really knowing how Dave would respond. Thankfully, the other seemed to understand that he didn't want to talk about it and instead directed him to his place.

Chris brought his eyes up to meet Dave's and slowly smiled, "thanks," he offered.

Dave had actually been the only person he had ever been honest with concerning his father and this sudden trust he gave the older boy was strange; strange, but kind of nice at the same time to be able to get that out.

"Alright, let's get goin."

Chris' eyes widened upon arrival at their destination. He had never been in this part of town and, where most would consider this the more grubby area of Staten Island, Chris was in awe as he stared at Dave's modest home. He wasn't judging, criticizing; just admiring how simple Dave had it. How normal of a life the other boy had compared to his own and what he would give to have the same.

"It won't take long." Dave promised while unbuckling his seat belt.

"No problem, man. Take your time."

Dave jogged into his house. As soon as he was within the sanctity of his room, he began to shed his uniform. He grabbed whatever he had that lying around that was clean, which happened to be standard blue jeans, and a plain white t-shirt. Dave descended the steps, shrugging on a jacket as he went. He informed his father that he would be hanging out with a friend, and then he was out the door again.

"There." He said, the car door slamming behind him. "I'm ready."

"Well, that was fast. Christ, I'm like a damn girl when getting ready." Chris laughed as they took off towards his home.

They arrived back at Chris' condominium where the younger man led his friend to the elevator and up to the penthouse suite he called home.

He unlocked the door and peered inside, making absolute certain his dad wasn't home before stepping into the large, open-concept suite.

"This place is huge." Dave said in awe, trailing behind the other as he led the way. He felt out of place just looking into the spacious penthouse. The lanky man entered after his friend, his eyes darting around with interest. He'd never been in any place like this before, and he was impressed.

Chris blushed at his friend's reaction to the place he himself wasn't impressed by one bit. "Yeah, I guess."

He suddenly felt that familiar anxiousness creep up on him as he watched Dave explore his condo in amazement. He felt uncomfortably hot, nervous, excited all at the same time as he kept his eyes on the taller man in front of him.

"Uh, so you want somethin to drink?" he motioned for Dave to follow him to his bedroom where he kept his own stock of liquor. "Got pretty much everything here."

"Yeah." came his reply, he had somehow forgotten that was his reason for coming over here, well that, and to chill with Chris. Dave's eye's rested on the other as he spoke. He broke out in a wolfish grin as he followed the other to his room. Unable to stop himself, Dave scoured the new room as he was introduced to it. He felt like he was being given access to something few people did.

Chris chuckled quietly to himself as Dave's reaction upon seeing his place was, again, priceless.

"Alright, well, just choose what you want," Chris replied as he opened up a large cupboard on the wall displaying an abundance of expensive alcohols, "and take a seat," gesturing towards the leather sofa against the far wall in his bedroom that faced a massive 64'' television, "be right back."

He headed for the kitchen to grab a couple glasses as well as attempt to calm himself from the realization that the guy was in his bedroom at this very moment.

He leaned his elbows against the granite counter-top as he analyzed his thoughts. _'He's just a friend. Just a friend. Just hangin out, drinking, playin some video games. That's all. What the hell is the big deal?'_

He dragged his fingers through his hair and released the breath he seemed to be holding in_. 'What is wrong with you, Chris?'_ He inwardly scolded himself as he collected the glasses and started back to his bedroom.

Dave stood amazed by the sight of so much alcohol in one place. Out of the huge collection of liquor, Dave was unable to decide on which one he wanted to try, and so he just randomly selected one. He did as the other boy advised and collapsed onto the comfortable couch with his liquor of choice in tow.

Chris reappeared to find Dave now seated and with a bottle of simple Bacardi Rum in his hand. He grinned widely as he closed the liquor cabinet, "Nice choice," and settled himself next to his friend as he passed him one of the cups. They were so close due to the lack of space on the small love-seat and Chris could feel the heat radiating off the other man.

"Umm..." his voice trailing off as he somewhat forgot what he was going to say, "if you, uh, want pop with it I got some Coke in the fridge here." Chris tapped a shaky hand against the bar fridge beside the sofa

The couch dipped slightly under Chris's weight as he joined him. Dave realized he could move over to give the other a little more space, but he didn't mind how close they were, and the guy wasn't telling him to move, so he stayed. Dave took the glass as it was handed to him, conscious of the fleeting feel of the others fingers as they brushed his.

"Yeah." He beamed at the mention of Coke.

Chris leaned over towards the fridge and grabbed out two cans of cold pop; just what he needed as his entire body felt as if it were on fire.

"Here, hand me that." He reached for the bottle of rum in Dave's hand and poured a generous amount of the alcohol into the glasses followed by the soda.

"Cheers." Chris grinned, clinking his glass against Dave's before downing the entire contents.

Dave watched Chris as he gulped down his drink, his adam's apple bobbing as he drained his cup. He realized then that he should probably follow the others lead (he was getting weirded out by his own staring), and brought his own cup up to his lips. He drank at a much slower pace than his short friend, taking a few swigs every so often. Dave wasn't much of a drinker, though he did partake in the occasional beer.

"Ahh. Good stuff, right?" Bringing his glass down from his lips, about to pour himself another when he noticed Dave had barely touched his drink. "Why you so quiet, man? Y'alright? Don't drink much?" He questioned, pouring the equivalent of three shots into his own cup.

Or maybe it was that Chris drank more than most. With both his parents being alcoholics themselves, it was no surprise that Chris developed the bad habit at a young age.

The rum and coke mixed drink wasn't bad, it just wasn't something he was used to. Dave responded with a nod to the others question, though the man didn't seem to catch it as he was reaching for the bottle to pour himself another glass. "Not really." He admitted to the second question fired at him. "You must think I'm a pussy."

"No. I don't think you're a pussy. You don't have to drink it if you don't want to. You're just actin' kinda strange, is all." Though he had to admit this whole thing was strange. He and Dave on speaking-terms wasn't exactly something most people would have seen coming.

Chris was hoping he hadn't made a mistake by bringing Dave to his place; the guy was acting very weird, well, weirder than what he had known him to be in the past. He prayed this wasn't just some big joke Dave and his friends were playing on the loner, rich kid; pretending to befriend him only to shoot him down. It's not like it would be the first time to happen to him.

"I am?" Dave considered what he was doing that could be perceived as strange. He guessed he was behaving a little distant; he hadn't forgotten about Chris's bruise, and how the boy said he got it. Those thoughts were very distracting. Or maybe the other caught him staring when he was drinking?

"Well, yeah, a little. If there's something I did or whatever's bothering you, just say it, man." At least it would give them something to talk about, whatever was going through Dave's head. Chris had confided in him, which was not something he ever did; the least Dave could do was show him the same trust. Isn't that what friends did?

Chris got the feeling that maybe Dave was bored? Was that what it was? He wasn't all that accustomed to having someone over and didn't quite know how to entertain guests. He tapped his fingers against his empty glass as he tried to think up something to talk about or do.

"Uhh, you wanna game? Call of Duty?" Chris finally spoke up.

Dave thought he should probably loosen up, it looked like whatever he was doing subconsciously was making the other feel weirded out. And so he tipped back his cup, draining what remained of his drink. He could afford to get a little tipsy.

"Sure. Sounds fun." Dave said, setting his empty cup down.

Chris' eyes lit up. "That's better, jeez. Was beginning to think I was boring you or something. Keep up!"

"Dude, I am so gonna destroy you!" Chris taunted.

"Is that right? I'll make you eat those words." Dave quipped, his mouth contorting in an impish grin.

Chris set his empty cup on the coffee table in front of them before getting up from the sofa to set up the game. He didn't make it very far as he stumbled around the table only to trip over his own feet and knock his glass, the (sealed, thankfully) bottle of alcohol and himself onto the floor in the process.

"Shit, fuck, I'm alright, I'm good," his words slurring ever so slightly as he attempted to pick himself up from the floor.

Even as the seasoned drinker that he was, he was never very good at handling his alcohol and those four or five shots that he had rather quickly tossed back were beginning to take effect.

"Maybe you shouldn't have anymore to drink." Dave said in his own, slightly inebriated voice. The decent buzz he had going felt nice, and it wasn't hard for him to understand why some people enjoyed drinking so much. It was nearly euphoric.

"Need any help?" Dave asked, he started to lift himself up from the couch, only to discover he wasn't that better off than Chris. His legs felt like jelly, which was really interesting. He poked at his own uncooperative legs and tried to will them to move.

"Dude, I'm fine, really," Chris insisted; one hand on the sofa for support as he lifted himself back up. "I just need to sit down for a sec." He leaned his body back against the couch let out a defeated grunt. "I think I prolly drank that too fast." He giggled as he turned half-lidded eyes towards Dave.

Dave gave a short laugh of his own. "What?" His question was accompanied by another chuckle.

"We will get to that game eventually, I swear. And then, _then _you are _so_ going down."

"No way, dude. I'm gonna wipe the floor with you." He grinned crookedly, mirroring the others look. Dave didn't bother to disguise his stare, watching the other openly. _'He's really cute.'_ He blinked in confusion. _'Wait. Can guys with goatees be cute? Or would hot be a better word to describe him ...?' _Dave, in his drunken mind, was more concerned about whether he was using the right word to describe Chris, rather than the fact he was actually thinking about another man in this way.

Maybe it was the alcohol clouding his brain, but Chris found he really enjoyed just sitting there staring at Dave and it was becoming more difficult to take his eyes off the man, no matter how creepy he probably looked doing so.

Chris normally drank alone; it was his way of drowning out the deep depression that he hid so well, allowing him to forget, even if just for a couple of hours, how shitty his life truly was. But this time seemed different; he couldn't hold back that goofy grin and actually felt…happy. Giddy. He decided he ought to have this guy over more often to drink with.

"What? Yeah. Sure." He wasn't exactly listening to the other, more so just gawking at him like a damn weirdo; people did tend to just kind of stare off into nothing when they were drunk…right? But Dave was certainly not _'nothing'._

'_I wonder how he looks without those goofy glasses…'_ Not that he looked bad with them, no; definitely no. _'He couldn't look bad even if he tried.'_

Chris quickly darted his eyes away shyly at this last thought; confused and intoxicated, silently trying to blame these random, complicated thoughts on the alcohol. _Unfortunately_ though, he wasn't completely shit-faced out of his head and really had nothing to blame for these feelings except his own, fairly sober, mind.

'_Oh, God, what is wrong with me?!'_ Chris shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

'_He's so fuckin hot…'_ There. In his mind, he said it. Done. Over with. Now back to just hanging out as friends and doing whatever the hell friends do…if that included ravaging each other's bodies until neither could take it anymore.

"Holy fuck! I- I need some water. You want some water? Yeah, you do, okay, I'll be right back." He didn't bother to wait for Dave's reply as he made all effort to stand and make his way out into the kitchen, half-leaning against the walls for support.

There was water in the fridge in his bedroom, but Chris just had to get out of that room.

"I'm gonna have more of that rum stuff while your gone." Dave called out, overall amused by Chris' not-at-all-strange outburst.

The bottle was still on the ground, and Dave managed with his foot to retrieve it, without having to get up at all. He removed the lid and didn't bother to reach for his glass to pour it in. The cup was too far away in Dave's opinion; despite it being within closer proximity than the bottle originally was. He tipped his head back and took a long gulp of the intoxicating substance. It tasted different, stronger than his first glass of the stuff._ 'Well duh. That one had coke in it.'_ He reminded himself. But his mind was so muddled that it was hard to even recall that bit of information. _'Meh...' _He took another swig from the bottle.


	4. Chapter 4

"Whatever you want." Chris called back, not hearing a word Dave had said about the rum as he quickly exited the room.

_'I'm not gay; I couldn't be, right?' _Fuck, no. It was revolting, unnatural; one of many things that his father would probably literally kill him for.

And yet, was he really sure? Having never been with a guy or girl before, how can one really know without…testing the waters a bit? He thought on this for a split second before determining how completely impossible it was.

'_It's just the alcohol. That's it.' _Chris thought; desperately trying to convince himself, as he paced drunkenly around the large kitchen. _'Just gonna go back in there and…and…' _His mind trailed off.

"Kiss him." he said out loud; instantly stopping in his tracks. _'I really, REALLY want to kiss him…'_

Staggering through the hall, Chris approached his bedroom and noticed Dave helping himself to more rum. _'Good. At least he's pretty drunk, too. That makes it okay…right? Fuck it. Doesn't even matter.'_

With an extra bout of confidence (mostly thanks to the liquor), Chris stumbled his way over to where Dave was seated and dropped right down into the boy's lap before gripping his face and planting probably one of the most awkward kisses he was sure Dave had ever received, upon his lips.

Dave wasn't aware of the man's presence as he reappeared out of no where, and deposited himself right in his lap. It was so graceless, the way the other held his face and pressed those bruising lips against his that Dave couldn't help but let out a small small laugh. The sound was muffled as their mouths were still connected, his head held in place by the short males hands determined hands. Dave tilted his head, the angle giving him the advantage of delivering a deeper kiss uninterrupted by bumping noses. His eye's slipped closed, both hands coming to rest around Chris' body as the bottle gripped in his fist tapped lightly against the mans shoulder. The first thing he noticed was that it felt incredibly good, the pair of warm, soft, inexperienced lips pressing against his. There was also something else, the strange and unfamiliar scratchy feeling of the boys facial hair rubbing against his skin made him keenly aware this was another man he was kissing.

A wave of relief washed over him as Dave seemed to fully accept the younger's inexperienced and clumsy kiss. He swore there was absolutely nothing that felt better than kissing Dave Lizewski, well, besides the sensation of grinding himself against his friend's lap of course, that wasn't too bad either.

Chris watched the man's eyes fall shut and he did the same as he slipped his arms around Dave's waist and pressed himself as close to the other's body as he could manage; a small moan escaping his lips while he relished in the contact. His fingers dug hard into the soft material of Dave's shirt while he felt himself getting hotter by the second; pulling the older boy's larger frame against him for more friction. He had never felt anything like this in his entire life and it was like he couldn't get enough no matter how hard he tried.

The kiss became less chaste and a lot more heated as the man on top of him set a rhythmic pace of clashing hips. It was sensational, the feeling of their denim clad lower halves as they rubbed against each other. The desperation in their vigorous grinding matched the needy kisses the boys exchanged as they clung onto one another.

Dave pawed at Chris's clothing, drawing him impossibly closer. He wanted every inch of that body pressed up against his. The breath hitched in his throat before he groaned lowly, responding to the others chirps of pleasure. He impatiently fought to slip his tongue inside of the mans mouth, to taste more of him. The knuckles on his hand turned white as he clenched the rum bottle in his fist tightly. His grip slackened as he let the object slipped and fell. It resounded with dull thud while miraculously not shattering; though its contents emptied onto the floor.

Hands worked their way from around the slim waist and up into the locks of the dirty-blonde hair; Chris' fingers tangling into the strands, gripping tightly as if afraid Dave would pull away from him. It was clear though that the other had absolutely no intention of stopping and only seemed to cling to him just as tightly. Chris noted how surprisingly strong Dave was for his slender build as the man held him close, refusing to let go.

A tongue teased across his lips, pressing impatiently against his mouth and Chris eagerly accepted the intrusion; savoring both the strong essence of the alcohol and this very new sensation as Dave's tongue caressed his.

He heard the clunk of the rum bottle hit the floor, knowing the bottle was still open and its contents now all over the expensive carpet. He'd tend to it later; right now, he just needed more of Dave, all of Dave, anything he could possibly get from the other.

"Want you," he whispered hungrily through their kiss, barely noticing just how much his own body was trembling.

Any inhibitions Dave may have still had were flung out the window as soon as that mouth opened to accept his tongue. Chris' tactless approach at kissing was slowly becoming tainted with skill.

The hands tugging insistently at his hair only served to work him up further; there was a certain desperation to the act, it was like Chris needed him. _Needed this._

And then the man uttered those words, and Dave was unable to help himself. He switched their positions; holding the other in his strong embrace as he lay him down on the couch. He slipped between the boys kicked up legs, covering the body with his own. Warm puffs of air wafted across his face with every breath the other took. His glasses lost somewhere amidst the hot make-out session.

Chris dropped a hand onto the cushion beside him for support before adjusting onto his back as his partner changed their positions. Oh yeah, this was _way_ better; he sighed softly at the feel of Dave's strong body pressed against his and breathed the other's scent in deeply.

The younger instinctively raised his hips to gain more of that friction that was lost in the few moments of them switching their position. His arms came to wrap around Dave's body; reaching up past the cotton shirt and pressing his hands against the small of his friend's well-defined back, Chris grinded the other down hard onto him while gasping at the intense jolt of pleasure it caused.

His back tensed as a cool hand slid underneath his shirt and urged his hips forward. Dave shuddered as a spark of maddening pleasure rippled up his spine.

Chris slowly opened his hazel-brown eyes as he felt something cold slide down beside his face and smiled against the other's man lips when he noticed Dave's glasses had slipped from him.

"Open your eyes", Chris murmured; wanting to see him without the distraction of his glasses.

Dave's eyes blinked open at the soft spoken request. With the close proximity of their faces, it wasn't hard to see the other without the aid of his glasses.

Dave beheld the Chris' wondrous bedroom gaze with his own lidded eye's. He never wanted anyone as much as he wanted Chris in that moment; not even Katie.

Chris shied away from their passionate kiss and bit down wantonly on his lip when those dazed, vibrant blue eyes fixed onto his and the sculpted muscles of Dave's lower back flexed against his small fingers. "Fuck…" he uttered breathlessly; Dave was truly gorgeous and he could only imagine what the rest of this man looked like under those ill-fitting clothes that did nothing to help his appearance.

His confidence fueled by a desperate need, Chris took hold of the hem of his partner's shirt and tugged upwards; indicating his want for the other to take it off.

- o - o - o -

Frank D'Amico was thrilled to be finished work at this hour; it was rare for him to be heading home while the sun was still out and he took his time driving at a leisurely pace. It had been a good day; a tad boring as the mob boss didn't have to kill anyone today, but there was always tomorrow.

Pulling into his reserved parking space alongside his son's old Mercedes, Frank noticed the boy was still home.

'_Good' _he thought, as he stepped out into the dimly-lit, private underground parking lot, clearly the boy had learned from the last time he decided to go against him. He wasn't a bad kid, but sometimes it took a little more effort on Frank's part to lead him in the right direction.

He loosened his tie and un-tucked his shirt from his dress pants as he rode the elevator; glancing down at his gold wristwatch when he reached the top floor.

'_Just in time for dinner.' _He smiled. That was definitely a first.

The doors slid open and Frank stepped into his lavish home, heading straight for the kitchen where his three chefs were preparing a meal.

"Sir," the one cook nodded to him, avoiding eye contact.

The three of them were completely silent as they worked, which Frank found incredibly odd as it was normally quite the ruckus in the kitchen with his lead chef barking out orders.

He stared at them in confusion before shrugging it off and tossing his briefcase onto the table; they were probably just as surprised as he was to see him home so early.

Finding the silence of his chefs strangely uncomfortable, Frank retreated to his office to finish what extra work he may have; there was always work to be done, but it was nice to be home at least.

The door to his son's bedroom was closed as he passed by and the man figured he'd check on him as soon as his work was complete. He had a tall order of cocaine to fill for a very rich client in Boston that he had putting off for too long now.

- o - o - o -

Dave complied with his shirts removal, his hands returning to grip the fabric of his partners shirt. "You too." He said suggestively.

Chris pushed himself up to a seated position as he gladly assisted his friend in removing his top, tugging it over his head and whipping it across the room before starting on his own.

Sitting back, Dave waited in his feverish state for the Chris to finish removing his top, but it seemed he was having trouble.

'_Fucking buttons!'_ The boy cursed; of all the days to wear a damn, tight-fitting dress shirt as his trembling hands could barely get a grasp on the buttons. He managed to unfasten the top few as he sensed his partner's impatience growing.

"It's Armani for fuck sakes. I can't just rip the thing off! Do you even know how much this shirt costs!"

"I don't care. Hurry and take it off." Dave instructed, his eager hands dived down to join Chris's shaking ones, and he made quick work of the buttons.

"Alright, alright. Fuckin' help me here." The younger boy whined, allowing Dave to toss his expensive shirt aside. Chris found himself immediately on his back again as his restless partner dived for him; closing the distance between their half-naked bodies and stealing another fervent kiss. He inhaled deeply at the warm, crushing weight of Dave's slender, but muscled physique molding perfectly against his much smaller one. He dragged his fingernails up Dave's back then back down again to grip, almost painfully, at his sides; longing to run his hands over every inch he could reach at that moment.

Dave reveled in the feel of their chests bare and touching. He craved more skin on skin contact; his hands finding their way on Chris's body.

Chris melted against the hands gliding against his skin as they explored his upper body. He gasped sharply when soft lips brushed his neck and groaned when those lips latched hard onto the sensitive areas of his neck. Dave seemed to know every move to cause the less experienced boy to cry out in pleasure.

He greedily craved more; as downright incredible as this was, it just didn't seem to be enough. His friend was teasing him crazy and he damn-well knew it. And he was still far too timid to fully word his desires.

"Dave…?" was all he could seem to manage as the look in his eyes begged for his partner to take this further.

Dave flattened his tongue against the mans neck before drawing the skin into his mouth, sucking on it hard, causing the blood to rise to the surface in the form of a hickey. He paused at the sound of the mans voice calling his name. Dave hoped he wasn't being asked to stop, he desperately wanted this to continue. The larger man leaned back to regard the others face and saw want plainly written there. Encouraged by this, Dave reattached his mouth to the Chris's neck as he moved his hands down the boys sides.

Chris grasped the others' wrists as he followed them down his body to the start of his jeans, pushing hard against Dave's hands for him to go lower. Fingers found the belt loops of his loose jeans and began to pull at them.

"Wait." Chris whispered; undoing the button on his pants and yanking down the zipper to make it easier. He lifted his hips slightly for Dave to tug his jeans down and propped himself to help take them off.

Dave tossed the boys jeans over his shoulder after he removed them, not once breaking contact with his neck. He nipped and sucked at his skin, making the other illicit those sounds that made his body thrum with excitement.

"Mmm." Chris moaned as Dave began sucking at the supple flesh of his neck and dropped his head to the side to give his lover better access. His mouth fell open as he no longer tried to contain the cries of pleasure that his partner was so effortlessly drawing from him.

- o - o - o -

"Done." Tossing his arms behind his head Frank leaned back in his chair and rested his head against his hands, finally able to relax and knowing he had over a hundred thousand dollars coming his way just from this simple deal.

"Hey, boy!" he called from his office; giving Chris a moment to respond.

'_Huh, that's weird…' _he thought to himself as he failed to receive a response. Usually when he called for him the kid was at his door before Frank could even blink an eye.

"Chris!" raising his voice a little in hopes he would be heard.

Chris' eyes immediately shot open and his entire body tensed at the sound of his father's voice_. 'Holy. Shit,' _he thought as he sat upright_, 'What the fuck is he doing home so early?'_

"Get off me, come on, hurry up, my dad's home!" Chris practically _threw _the larger boy off both himself and the sofa.

Caught off guard by the boys rough shove, Dave dropped onto the floor, narrowly missing the coffee table. "Ow. What the-" He was then forced to stand up before he was pushed into a large closet.

"He will literally murder the both of us if he finds you so just stay here for now." The younger declared; his words littered with fear as he closed the door on his friend.

Dave gave the other a confused look, and listened to the boy as he told him to stay put. He wasn't happy by this turn of events but Chris's reaction was pretty sobering; the guy looked so frightened. Would Chris's dad really kill them if he caught them?

With Dave hidden, Chris darted over to his computer to boot it back up and get his homework loaded on the screen before frantically searching for both his jeans and shirt to throw back on quickly; troubling himself with the buttons of his top and managing to do up a few which was good enough for now as he heard the knock at his door.

"Hey, dad. H-How long you been home for?" He smiled, opening the door and struggling to keep from possibly slurring his words.

The pleasant effects of his drunkenness had worn off and the _after _effects of it were beginning to kick in as his head spun from the numerous shots of hard liquor only an hour or so ago.

"Not long. You alright, kid?" His father immediately asked, noticing the rather disheveled state his son was in. Ignoring the bruise on his face (as he knew perfectly well where that came from), Frank looked Chris up and down in confusion; half-buttoned, half-tucked-in dress shirt, hair that was normally styled meticulously looked as though the kid hadn't run a comb through it in a week, his face and neck flushed beat-red, and his eyes were that of someone either incredibly high, drunk or had just been thoroughly fucked (which, if any of the three, Frank did _not _want to hear about it).

"You sick or somethin'?" Stepping closer to feel his forehead and noticing a small deep-red mark on the side his neck. "Is that…a _hickey_?" Taking a tight hold of his son's chin with one large hand Frank forced his head to the side.

"N-No, it's umm," the boy stammered, but Frank cut him off as he noticed something else just as strange lying on the floor.

Releasing his grasp on Chris, Frank reached down and picked up a plain, white cotton t-shirt that never in a million years his son would _ever _be caught dead in and stared at it with disgust. "Where in the world did you get this?"

"Huh?" Chris' jaw dropped as he realized what his dad was holding: _'Dave's shirt!'_

"Oh. Ha, that old thing. Ya," Chris laughed nervously as he tore the shirt from his father's hands, "just comfy shit I wear around the house when I know I'm not going anywhere that day."

"Is that so?" Frank questioned suspiciously; crossing his arms over his chest and examining the worn-out, shabby t-shirt that looked to be a size or two too large for his son.

Chris threw the shirt down behind him and extended an arm to rest against the door-frame; hoping to block out any other noticeable things that the boy's may have forgotten to hide during their scramble.

"I'm still workin' on that essay, so uh, I'll see you for dinner in a bit, kay?" His father knew something was up. Chris couldn't lie to save his life; a skill that Frank wished he had developed as lying was a strong requirement needed for their line of work.

"I'd like to see it." The man shoved past his son with little effort and stepped into his bedroom towards his computer.

'_Shit, shit, SHIT! This is not happening right now.'_

"I said it's not finished yet!" He scampered over to stop his dad from entering his room any further, but it was too late. And Frank had no intention of looking over schoolwork right now as his eyes scanned the boy's bedroom.

"When did you start wearing glasses?" Puzzled by the random pair lying carelessly on the floor as the mobster inspected the large room; he was fully aware the lack of attention he paid to his son, but he was sure he would have noticed this.

'_Oh my fucking GOD, come ON!'_

"They're fairly new, actually. Just noticed 'bout a week ago that I couldn't-" He was cut off once more as Frank marched towards him with _that_ look on his face; a look Chris knew all too well.

* * *

**A.N. - If anyone would like to beta for this story please don't hesitate to contact me! I've been searching for a beta for over a month to no avail.**

**This is a roleplay between me and Jayden Blake. I play as Dave and Mindy. My amazingly talented partner acts as Chris, Frank, and Damon. Once again I'd like to point out that this is a slight AU. That means most of the events that occurred in both Kick-Ass 1 and 2 don't pertain to this plot. And be sure not to make any assumptions about the characters, and their back stories. In this fic, Chris doesn't know Dave is actually Kick Ass and the boys are 21.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Kick-Ass nor do I make a profit from any of my stories.**

**Also, reviews are greatly appreciated! It would be nice to know there are people actually reading this fic. :)**


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